


Birthday present

by ChocoNut



Series: Modern JB love [14]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthday Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23785870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Brienne has had a lovely birthday, fulfilling in all respects except for one thing - the day is drawing to a close and her best friend and crush has not yet wished her.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Modern JB love [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557871
Comments: 10
Kudos: 102





	Birthday present

It was about an hour and a half to midnight when Brienne reached home. 

Unlocking the door, she stepped into the cold solitude, ready to call it a night. What a day it had been! With everyone from family to friends calling her to express their best wishes and her best mates planning a surprise get together at her favourite pub, she couldn’t have asked for a better birthday celebration. 

Everything had gone perfectly except--

With a long, wistful sigh, she put aside her bag and barged straight into the bedroom. Everyone she knew had either called or texted or wished her in person. 

Everyone except--

The day was creeping to a close, so there was no use thinking about it anymore; not if she wanted to avoid a sleepless night. Trying not to dwell too much on the dull disappointment pushing into her chest, she stepped out of her dress to change and retire for the night, too tired for a shower. Taking off her bra, which had been forced into an overtime today, she savoured the freedom for a moment or two before getting into a loose and comfortable tee and a pair of shorts. Putting her phone aside, she snuggled into bed, hoping to get a decent few hours of sleep.

A few minutes later, however, unable to resist just one more glance, she reached for her phone.

No new messages.

Blinking furiously, hurt stinging the corners of her eyes, she tossed it aside and buried herself beneath the sheets.

He could’ve at least sent a text…

She turned to the other side, hoping that would alleviate whatever it was that she was going through, as if fixing her eyes on the wall would wipe her mind of all thoughts of him.

Why would he even remember? Fuming to herself, she began brooding over the reason he had moved to Casterly Rock. He had foregone his job, his friends… everything. Everything he had done was for Cersei, his existence revolving around her. She was the love of his life, the woman he couldn’t live without. Tonight, being Saturday night, he’d definitely be out somewhere with his pretty girlfriend, or worse still, in bed, fucking her till the wee hours of the morning.

Jealousy pinching her hard, she switched sides again, hoping this lame exercise might wear her out and put her to sleep. Cersei was all that mattered to him. And out of sight was out of mind. If she expected him to remember her birthday--

The doorbell chimed, a jarring and unwanted disruption, but Brienne stayed in bed. Whoever it was, could very well go away and leave her alone. She wasn’t in the mood to entertain guests at this hour.

But when it kept ringing, her visitor obviously keen on making his presence felt, she dragged herself out of bed and trudged outside to find out.

When she took a peek through the peephole, her heart, skipping a beat, jumped up to find residence in her throat.

_It can’t be…_

“Brienne, I know you’re in there,” came his persuasive voice, “and you're awake. I can see the light through the gap beneath the door.”

She pinched her arm to check if this was some strange wish-fulfillment dream, and when convinced, at last, she let him in. “Jaime, how the hell did you land up here? At this hour?”

“Happy birthday, wench,” he said, greeting her with a warm smile and a bear-hug that left her all jittery and weak-kneed.

Brienne closed her eyes and breathed in the sensation of his touch, letting it wash over every bit of her. It had been months since she’d last seen him. His strong arms, that well-built chest, the heady scent of musk and sweat and _Jaime_ … how long had it been since he’d embraced her like that? Her heart embarking on a wild thumping spree, she lingered in his arms for longer than usual, waiting for this magical moment to sink in. Just by his mere presence, she was beginning to feel alive again, the blood gushing through her veins in a mad rush, the weight on her chest, miraculously lifted.

But he released her abruptly to take a quick look at his watch. “Still about fifteen minutes to go for midnight. We’d better hurry.” 

“What--”

Taking her wrist, he led her to the kitchen, and switching on just one soft light, he set the box he'd been holding on the counter. He then went on to hastily unwrap it, unveiling a cute little birthday cake - perfect for two people.

“Jaime,” she whispered, overwhelmed and completely taken over by this surprise. “When you didn’t call or message--”

“I thought turning up to wish you in person would be a lot better.” Lighting a single candle, he placed it beside her name decorated in icing. “Come on, then, before time runs out,” he urged, handing her a knife. When he began singing the birthday song, tunelessly, yet adorably, she blew out the candle and cut the cake.

“You first,” he said, when she offered him a piece, feeding it to her, instead. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, still in a daze.

His eyes were glued to hers. “You thought I had forgotten your birthday.”

A twinge of guilt stabbed her. Never once, had he missed it, always the first to wish her at the stroke of midnight. “I assumed you might be busy with Cersei, that it probably slipped your mind--”

“I’m not with Cersei anymore.”

Did her ears deceive her? “What do you mean--” 

“I’ve broken up with her.” He moved towards her to close the gap between them, his eyes, intense and brimming with unsaid words, the air around them charged with electricity, the tension, thick, and waiting to be sliced away.

Tingling all over and her throat severely dry from the way he was looking at her, she could almost guess his answer, but wanted to hear it from him. “Why?”

The corners of his mouth pulled up in the most charming smile she’d ever seen. “Because I figured out I wasn’t in love with her. Because--” he paused to flick his thumb along her lips “--there’s someone else who has stolen my heart.” Bringing his thumb to his mouth, he licked away the icing on it. “Because it is she, I’d want to be with... if she wishes the same--”

“She _does_ ,” Brienne confessed with an urgency that surprised her. “She does, Jaime. She has been wanting it. For months.” This was it; the moment of her dreams; the night she’d yearned for, secretly pining for him for months. She wanted to say more than that, to tear open every corner of her heart for him to see, but words failed her as if they’d been scattered to the remotest parts of the world by the raging storm of her thundering pulse. Such was the effect his eyes had on her.

And when Jaime touched her shoulder, all hell broke loose. 

Her emotions exploding all around her, she sank into him to seek the familiarity of his strong arms, his taut chest, his body on hers. Beyond the stage of inhibitions anymore, she leaned in to kiss him, her lips craving for a taste of him, the nagging pulse of desire deep within her core, aching for a feel of his hard, hot erection inside her.

“Oh, wench,” he breathed, meeting her halfway, and their lips fused in a fervent collision, every barrier between them, coming apart. The pining, the pain of staying apart, the line of friendship they’d been cautious not to breach so far, the hindrance in the form of Cersei -- all of it crumbled to dust under the force of their mutual need. She whimpered into his open mouth, tasting cake and him and a lot more than she’d lusted after in her vividly explicit dreams, her hands skimming over his muscled form, desperate to feel the skin beneath the shirt, to play with the hair on his chest that had oh-so-often led her mind astray and her hormones blowing out of proportions. He began exploring her with abandon, his hands roaming over her arms and shoulders, reaching beneath her shirt, creeping up to feel her bare skin. 

Gods, how badly she’d wanted him to touch her like this! 

“I’m back here for good,” he announced with relish, when they reluctantly broke the kiss, the eyes that had tormented her dreams for as long as she could remember, blatantly shouting out that he was his. “For _you_ , Brienne.” His blazing gaze burned through her, the light breeze of his breath grazing her lips. His hands snaked under her shirt, up her ribs until he was kneading and palming her breast, the pads of his thumbs brushing back and forth across the rigid tips of her nipples. “I didn’t get you any birthday present--”

“ _You_.” She fiercely claimed him with another kiss. “You’re my gift, Jaime. That’s all I want. The best gift anyone can ever give me.”

He let go of her, but only long enough to undress her, her stomach, her breasts, the thirsty wetness between her legs… all of her for him to see, to lay his hands on, to touch and kiss and make love to. “Happy Birthday, darling,” he rasped, rolling her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, and all she could feel next, was her ass tightly pressed against the edge of the counter, his lips on hers, his roving hands all over her blushing skin. She gave in with a little shudder when she felt him caress up her neck, his mouth leaving hers to feast upon the rest of her, sweet, meaningful kisses, ripping her apart, tossing her up into the air and bringing her crashing to the ground.

She gasped, blinded to everything but lust and love. She whispered sweet words of tenderness in his ear, wanting every damn day of her life to end like this. Could any woman want a man like this? She needed him. So badly. So much, that she never wanted to let go of him, never wanted him to leave her side...

Grabbing him by the back of his neck, she brought his face in level with hers. “Stay with me tonight,” she said, drowning in the depths of his lust-darkened eyes. Yanking him by the wrist, she dragged him towards the sofa, on their way, ripping off his shirt, ridding him of his belt, trousers and shoes. Faltering and stumbling over the pieces of clothing they'd left strewn all over, when they made it, at last, she met his gaze again. “Every fucking day and night, Jaime.”

She shoved him on to the plush cushions, then climbing on after him, she straddled him. She bent in to kiss him again, rubbing her aching breasts against his coarse chest hair, grinding her crotch against his throbbing, pulsing erection. Before tonight, she had not thought it possible to taste his mouth, to get enough of the feel of their tongues between their parted lips, to feel his naked body beneath her fingers, to writhe and squirm at his touch. Not even in the sexiest of her dreams. But how grossly mistaken she was! His hands reached around her, pinching and squeezing her hips, relishing the feel of her skin as they moved to tightly grasp her ass. 

Gasping and struggling to get some air into their lungs, they broke away from the kiss, and she reared upright, panting heavily, leaving her touch-hungry nipples hanging over his face. “Jaime--”

“Anything you want, wench.” He eyed her like no man had until now. “I am yours.” 

A guttural moan rising up his throat, he let his hands slide around her ass and up her front. He caressed and stroked her breasts, every press of his fingers, every push of his palms, torturing her to heights of arousal she’d never climbed to before. He rose to taste them, nuzzling her body with his face and hands, and when his tongue swiped damply over her nipples, she could feel the painful strain of his cock against her thighs, desperate to find shelter within her, to seek its much-needed release.

Her eyes never leaving his, she finally lowered herself onto his rigid shaft, guiding his cock into the depths of her dripping cunt.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her back, and pulling her forward, he began to kiss her as she began to ride his length, her hips, engaging in a rocking, rhythmic motion over him. Reaching down to grip her ass, he rose to meet her midway, his thighs, slapping into hers, his thick cock, disappearing into her in one torrid thrust after another. With every stroke, he left her breathless. She could feel the power in his hips, in the ruthless push and pull of his magnificent shaft, in the way he kissed her, the hunger in him, making her head swim. 

She was getting closer, but he held on, holding back his explosion as he went on… deeper and faster.

Then, without warning, he flipped, taking her with him, and she found herself lying beneath him. His cock still embedded deep within her, he gazed down at her, his eyes resonating with hers, both of them speaking the same wordless language.

 _I am his._

_And he is mine._

The essence of everything she desired belonged to him, the realization hitting her hard as he kept driving deep into her, shouting out her name, kissing and caressing her.

The way he held her awakened a hidden, dormant side of her, the delicate, yet passionate woman no man had, so far, managed to bring to life. A moaning, writhing mess, she had turned into, his touch, his kisses, his body, the only food for her needs and desires.

He clutched and squeezed at her hips, pounding her, punishing her, his thrusts building up to a climax, she feared, she couldn’t withstand. “Oh, fuck, yes, Jaime,” she mewled, and he kept pushing, harder, deeper, his thumb slipping between them to touch her clit.

He pressed his thumb against her nub, inflicting more torture upon her, massaging it until she screamed. She could barely see; hardly think, her cunt, throbbing and rippling from within as he nudged her to the edge… closer and closer. 

She felt beautiful; she felt like a woman, the sheer force of his needy thrusts, his grunts and groans and curses, proving how desired she was beyond anything she’d ever known.

When she started to fade into oblivion, when the room around her began to collapse, Jaime gripped her hips and plunged in so hard that her body gave up, at last. She fell back, shaking with the exquisite pleasure burning inside her, her muscles deep inside, clenching hard one last time before exploding in a delicious orgasm.

Not to be left far behind, he joined her, making it to the end of this whirlwind mating dance, his cock exploding into a torrent of wet heat inside her, his torrid climax leaving him moaning and gasping for precious air.

Such an extraordinary bliss, it was. A heavenly feeling of contentment and pleasure.

He pulled out of her, and they lay together on the sofa for a long time, saying nothing, but the softness of his lips on her neck told her that he would always be there for her.

“When I woke up this morning, I never thought my birthday would end like this,” she said, smiling up at him when she’d found her tongue.

“When I left Casterly Rock, all I wanted was to reach here on time to wish you,” he whispered, bending to capture her lips. “Little did I know that my life would take such a beautiful turn by the end of this lovely day.”

“Jaime--”

“Happy Birthday, wench,” he tenderly wished her again, then went on to deepen the kiss, his urgency and aggression telling her there was more to come.

The night had just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it :)


End file.
